


On Missing John Watson

by NightChanghes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: His Last Vow, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mind Palace, The Sign of Three, and he's feverish, drug usage, john watson finds sherlock, sherlock is really high, so he's writing in his mind palace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8701225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightChanghes/pseuds/NightChanghes
Summary: Sherlock is in a drug den after the marriage of John and Mary. In canon, he explains that it was for a case, but that's not so convincing to many viewers. Being Sherlock, he writes a drug induced letter to John within his mind palace , only to be taken out of his mind when John finds him on a mattress beside Issac Whitney. As a forward to the style, I like to call this writing style 'word vomit.' It's gonna feel like a lot of words and block text in your face and the pace at which you read changes very abruptly. I'd say you may even feel lost at times, but that's what it's meant to be. It's meant to mock the racing mind of person using... In this case, Sherlock is on so many drugs he can't even remember what he's saying so if you notice a repetition, it's meant to be there. Just keep that in mind as you read this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> read the summary, this has no context otherwise

I miss having you. I miss having the one person that I could tell anything to. You were my sweet release and the familiar breath in my lungs. Everything I am is falling apart because, well, you’re gone. I unravel before you and yet you don’t attempt to sew me back up. It’s not your fault; in fact it really is mine. I was the one who left the wedding early, I was the one who didn’t call. You see, John, I’m not bitter towards you, I’m just sad because you’re so wonderful and everything I’ve ever wanted but you don’t want me. And maybe you did want me before the fall, but I couldn’t bring myself to rise from the dead, it hurt me too much to know what I had put you through. Sometimes I just want to forget you were ever there, that I ever had someone as wonderful as you living with me because then I wouldn’t feel this dead inside. Really, it doesn’t even hurt anymore, it’s just this dull gnawing that sometimes becomes sharp when I remember you telling me that I was the best and wisest man that you have ever known or the feeling of your soft hand upon my knee. I can’t believe that one fall, something that had to be done, led me down this destructive route. ~~Our~~ My flat is too messy to recover, my muscles are straining and it hurts so bad, I’m turning into stone and I am typing this but it feels surreal. My thoughts are flowing onto paper but I can’t remember the sentence before. I feel like I might die right now and you wouldn’t know what to do because maybe you do want me. I mean, you don’t. I want you to want me. I don’t need anything from you. I shouldn’t have gotten emotionally invested. “Caring is not an advantage,” I’ve always known this and I never thought I would be the subject of such a vicious motivator as love, but here I am. I just don’t know how we went from moving in together after only a few hours of knowing each other and going for Chinese food after cases to this, stagnant, lonely thing that’s only present when we are in a room together. I get jealous that your relationships with others are growing and that you’ve met so many new people with Mary now and you know what, I knew you’d eventually meet someone and fall in love and I’m happy for you, I really am, but I don’t know what to do because _it was you_. I know it was and I fucked it up and perhaps someone will come along someday that is meant for me, but I fucking wish it were you. You were my first friend, you were my first best friend, you were my first love, and now I’m alone, turning to a seven percent solution in a needle that’s supposed to heighten my senses and make me feel better, or at least feel something, but it really just makes me spiral even further down in my loneliness and it makes me groggy the next day where I forget bits and pieces of my life. I’m fucking ruining myself because I don’t want to make you unhappy by unloading all this on you so I’m just allowing my body to take it and deal with it when I just want to send this to you and get rid of all this poison in my veins and vomit up whatever else I took yesterday and today. God, it was you. I know it was you. And now you’re melting in my hand like a snowflake and I’m realizing that you’re the only one like it and I don’t know how to save you in time because it just takes 15 seconds for you to dissipate and that 15 seconds is such a small blip in my life but it’s the biggest mistake I ever made, letting you go I mean. At least you’re happy now and probably talking with Mary about drinking wine and starting a family like a suburban mom while I sit on the curb like the awkward, try hard who keeps baking pies and crème puffs but still never gets invited to play bridge. I’m just being a shitty, ungrateful person who is trying to express his thoughts but I can’t because, John Hamish Watson, you’re a roadblock. In another attempt to fill the void you left me with, I started letting her get to me and see my groggy morning self and feel my lips upon hers when really all I wanted was to save my lips for you. And in the end it isn’t even for love, John, it’s just for a case. I’ll do anything for a case, so why can’t I just talk to you? The last time we talked, really talked about us, being a possibility I mean, was when you asked me if I had a girlfriend and I said “No, not really my area.” And then I turned you down, John. If I had known, if I had known that this would be our fate, to be apart, I would have given up all that “married to my work” bull shit and told you how I felt. But it’s all relative because I thought that was right in the moment and I was just so nervous to have found as wonderful of a human being as you and you can’t blame me for just being content in the game, in the flattery, in the oblivion. God, I should have done so much differently, I should have listened to you better, I shouldn’t have been so awkward in person with you, I should have just went for it and leapt and let go of my ignorant, arrogant self, but I wasn’t ready yet. Right now I just want to print this off so I can carry it around and read it and finally understand my thoughts, but I don’t think I can walk and my fingers are going numb and I feel like I weigh about as much as an elephant with all this shit on my mind. I don’t want to hurt you John, but god, I liked you so much and I loved you so much, and yes, despite your inability to see me as a person with a heart capable of love, _in love with you_. And I loved the way your body felt against mine when you hugged me during my speech, it was like time stopped for a moment and I had to jump to the “funny stories about ~~John~~ you” because I felt like I might never breathe again if I didn’t start off immediately. I loved the way you talked to me, as constant reassurance, though I’m not sure if that was always really you or just the comforting figure that always stuck around and sat in your empty chair even when you were really gone. But now, even that part of my mind is erased and you no longer linger in this place. It’s like a world gone dull without you, my dear Watson. I miss you. I want you here right now so I can sleep. My system is full of who-knows-what so I think I’ll just live out the high and think about you and the way we were. That’s never a good thing. I’ll probably shoot up again before I can sleep. It’s just you, you, you; I’m surrounded by cerulean blue. I’m thinking about your eyes and how you thought I was so strange and intriguing when I held my laptop funny or popped up the collar on my jacket. I’m thinking about the time when you held my hand and then pulled me in by my coat collar to tell me through the fence that we’d need to coordinate, in that moment I really thought you were going to kiss me. But I’m not good at taking hints when it comes to that sort of thing and, really John, neither are you. I remembered you vividly when I left for those two years, you were all I had to hold on to. But this time, you’re more muddled and each day that passes means another part of you disappears from memory, like my mind palace is on auto pilot and is removing you as “no longer useful” and I’m trying to hold on to you and hide you in there somewhere behind a bookcase where you can never be erased, but the drugs are taking over and I can’t remember sentences I started moments ago like I’m suddenly put in over-drive and shot into the future and then I realize I’m mid sentence, thinking about you and the elastic band I stretched out snaps back and I’m back in the present that now feels like the past. It feels like I began phrases two years ago when it’s really only been two seconds. My reality is tainted like some sort of glitch in this matrix I’m in. I’m falling apart and I think I might die and I’m not sure what you would do. I wonder if I ever mattered at all, if I really mattered would you have moved on so quickly, or did that mean I _was_ more to you than I can imagine. As if it all hurt so much that, just like my attempt to fill the hole you left in my heart when you chose her, you had to find someone to put pressure on the wound to stop it from bleeding out.

I should have told you I was alive, I should have told you I love you, I should have, I should have, I should have.

But I didn’t.

Just remember, It’s always you, John Watson. You ~~keep~~ kept me right.

-

_“Do you think I know a lot of people here? Hey, you all right?”_

_“Oh, hello, John. Didn’t expect to see you here.”_

_“If you were ever near this kind of thing again, you could have called, you could have talked to me”_

No, John, I couldn’t.

You chose _her_ , not me.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the characters and this is purely fiction. :) thanks for reading.


End file.
